


A Lonelier Man

by longphrases_and_commas



Series: We're still friends, right? [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Family Issues, Gen, Old Peggy Carter, Some Swearing, Teenager Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longphrases_and_commas/pseuds/longphrases_and_commas
Summary: Emotional abandonment is a subjective emotional state in which people feel undesired, left behind, insecure, or discarded. People experiencing emotional abandonment may feel at a loss, cut off from a crucial source of sustenance that has been withdrawn, either suddenly, or through a process of erosion.Margaret "Peggy" Carter: soldier, Howling Commando, special agent, founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.. And Tony's Stark godmother.No one could say Tony was ever an easy teenager, but when it comes to his father, well...it's even more complicated.





	A Lonelier Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, beautiful people!
> 
> Welcome to my head, where it's always missing Peggy Carter hours.  
> After writing the first part, I couldn't stop thinking about Peggy being part of Tony's life (since she was one of Howard's closest friends, remember, Marvel?) and after some logistical trouble, I birthed this.  
> It's a giant ball of angst (as usual) and Tony feels spread out in three thousand words of that good old dialog.  
> I don't think there's much more I can say without making you not want to read this (I'm a terrible sales pitcher, I KNOW), so that's all, I guess.
> 
> Happy reading!

Tony wished there was a hole he could crawl into. Or a paper bag to put over his head.  _Anything._ Hecouldn’t believe that that was actually happening to him. The sound of the horn was unmistakable and it didn’t even sound that loud in his nightmares. 

One of the other kids stretched to look out the window, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Hey, Stark, isn’t that your stepmother or some shit?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Tony answered, not even shedding a look at the driveway, because he had already seen the vintage turquoise car and chosen to ignore it, then threw a couple of tokens on the table. “I see your 200 and raise you 50.” 

“You did that the last three rounds and in none of them you had a winning hand,” the boy to his left pointed out. He had a really puffy cowlick, the sides of his har so covered in gel Tony was afraid that if something flew into it, it would stay there forever. “All in.” 

“Announcing your strategy out loud it’s not a great method for winning, did you know? Well, who am I to say really? Everyone says my poker face–” 

“Stark?” the first one called out. He rocked a curly mullet in which a small animal could probably make a nest and wore a cologne that was great in its job of making everyone nauseous. “She’s still there, man. You sure you don’t know her?” 

Tony knew she was still there–after all, he wasn’t deaf and could hear the horn clear as day. But maybe, just maybe, she’d leave if he ignored her long enough. 

“Tony!” she screamed out the car window.  _Oh no_.  _Code red._  “Tony, I know you’re in there. Come on.” 

“You playing or what?” he asked Mullet before he could ask any more questions. 

The boy just pushed his chips to the center of the table without looking away from the colorful car and the screaming woman inside of it. Hair Gel laid his cards down.  _Full house_. Tony’s heart skipped a beat. The other boy cursed and slammed his hand on the table. He had a terrible bluff. It was all or nothing now. Tony’s eyes scanned his cards carefully. 

“Anthony Edward Stark,”  _Full name alert_ , his brain ringed _,_ “if you think I won’t go in there and drag you out, you’re really underestimating me.” 

“Your middle name is Edward?” asked a girl lying across an armchair, who he had been sure was sleeping and whose name he honestly forgot as soon as she announced it. He felt like it could be Brittany, but he wasn’t risking it. 

Without answering, Tony got up and picked up his jacket. 

“Thanks for the invite,” he said, walking out of the room, then finally showed his hand.  _His winning hand_. And shrugged. “Can’t win them all.” 

Going down the stairs gave him the time he needed to access the situation. The situation was: he was completely and inexorably screwed. If she was the one coming to pick him up, something had gone very, very wrong. Or maybe she just missed him, which seemed unlikely considering she had just threatened to drag him out of the house, but it was a nice thought nevertheless. 

The engine was already running when he got to the front door. The car was obnoxiously loud and obnoxiously colorful and obnoxiously old...and Tony  _loved_  it. He would never admit it, because that’s just who he was as a person, but he’d live in that car if he could. 

“Get in,” she said, and her look could turn people to stone. “And if you hit the door, I swear to God I’ll hit you with it.” 

“I’m sorry, Peg,” he mumbled, pulling the seatbelt around his torso, and avoiding meeting her eyes at all costs. 

“You’re sorry? For fuck’s sake, Tony, shouldn’t you be at school?” she asked, with that thick English accent that only added to her seemingly posh persona, and engaged the reverse gear. 

“Where’s Jarvis?” 

“You can’t keep hiding behind Jarvis every time you make a mess and have no idea of how to fix it.” 

“I was just wondering why super spy and S.H.I.E.L.D. co-founder Margaret Carter came to pick me up and not the butler. Jesus.” 

“There’s a limit between sass and plain disrespect, you know that?” she frowned at the street. “Besides, you know damn well where Jarvis is, because you should be there.” She looked at her wristwatch and pressed her lips together. “In fact, we  _both_  should.” 

That made Tony straighten up on his seat. What had he forgotten this time? He was pretty sure it was neither Easter or Christmas. Did someone have a baby? It seemed like everyone was having babies recently. 

“This has to be a joke,” Peggy’s voice pulled him out of his thinking, “You completely forgot about it, didn’t you?” 

He mumbled something that could be words as a response. She sighed. 

“Howard’s birthday? The party?” 

Only then some part of him noticed that Peggy looked different, her everyday pantsuit replaced by a nice knee-length dress, her hair groomed neatly into more-perfect-than-usual curls, and at his feet was a pair of low heels she had taken off to drive. 

Her words kept echoing in his mind–Howard’s birthday, Howard’s birthday,  _Howard’s birthday_ –and his head felt like it was about to explode. There were too many emotions at once–sadness, anger, relief, pain, longing; all mixed together as he tried to loosen up the knot in his throat. He had to force his consciousness back up to the real world to listen to Peggy. 

“It’s fine,” she said, not like anything had ever been fine. “We can get you showered and changed before speech time. Probably. I think. I just have to–” 

“Peg,” Tony interrupted, his mouth completely dry, then closed his eyes for a second, “I’m not going.” 

“Just...don’t,” she said, her voice turning incredibly soft. Not soft like the way she used to talk to Tony when he was little, or the comfortable tone she used with Jarvis, or even the patronizing anger she usually threw at Howard. It was soft and tired, an older woman forced to drive miles on end to pick up her rebellious godson. “Don’t do this, Tony. You’re going, and that’s the end of it.” 

“No. I’m not going, Peg. Why should I, anyway?” 

“Why should you? Lord, are you listening to yourself? It’s your father’s birthday and that should give you more than enough reason to go.” 

“I bet he doesn’t even want me there.” 

“Then why would I have come all this way?” 

“My mom,” Tony answered, with a shrug, and by the way Peggy’s jaw tensed, he knew he was right. He tried not to put too much thought in the fact that Howard couldn’t care less about his presence. 

She sighed. She drove fast, trees flying past them on both sides of the road, deafening wind coming from the windows and the engine roaring under them. Tony put a hand out the window, letting the breeze caress his skin, opening and closing his fingers to watch the air resistance push his arm back. 

Peggy swallowed hard, her own fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, the wedding ring shiny on her left hand. 

“Your father is difficult, and I’ll be the first to say it. But you need to understand that Howard is a very conflicted man. He doesn’t always know what’s best for him and it has been like that since I met him.” 

Something started boiling in Tony’s stomach. He knew what it was and even thought he hated the feeling, he let it crawl up his body and settle in because he needed the push. He could control it, he knew he could. 

“You know you don’t need to defend him, right? He is not a kid, he knows what he’s doing,” he said, facing the windshield, because it was easier to pretend it was just him in the car. 

“Well, you’re not exactly a still kid either, Tony. It’s a heavy weight to lay on your shoulders, but the company–” 

“Oh my God. I don’t care about the company! It’s  _his_  company and I want  _nothing_  to do with it.” 

He didn’t mean to shout. It was building fast, that overcoming feeling. Peggy’s hands hugged the wheel a little tighter, her knuckles turning white, and she shed a little look at Tony, the first one since he walked into the car. 

“Then what are you going to do, huh? Just take your degree and walk away from everyone who ever cared about you to live alone, just you and your machines?” 

“Fuck you, Peg,” he let out, his mouth working without his approval. Regret hit him, overcoming the fire in his belly, but when he came back to himself it was already done. He had a finger pointed at Peggy, way too close to her face, and the car was stopped at the side of the road, completely silent. 

“No, fuck you, Tony!” she yelled back, keeping her eyes fixed on the road even though they were parked. Her hand hit the horn. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to lash out at me like that. It’s not fair.” 

“Fair? Nothing about...” he made a gesture, comprising the car, them and all they were saying, “ _this_  is fair.” 

“Look at the life you’re living! You get to drive away from school with your rich friends to sit in a mansion getting hammered all day long and yet you have to courage to tell me nothing is fair? I was a soldier when I was not much older than you, Tony.  _That_  was not fair.” 

“Shit, you’re just like him. Always going back to the War, because it was the only thing you ever did that mattered. What’s next on the guilt agenda? Is it Steve? If it is, you can keep it to yourself, ‘cause I’ve had enough of him for a lifetime.” 

So that was the release. That was the big climax, the explosion that came from whatever it was that tangled his stomach. He wanted to believe it was cathartic, freeing, but it made him feel...empty. 

Without realizing, he had slumped on his seat, arms crossed over his chest, retreating what was left of him to expect what was coming. He waited, but there was no backfire. 

Peggy was sat very still, her hands clasped together on her lap as if she was holding something, her eyelids fluttering as she fought back tears. He had never seen Peggy Carter cry, and it looked so surreal he considered it could be his mind playing tricks. But soon enough a tear slid down her cheek and Tony felt his heart shatter in a million pieces. She had children of her own, and a little niece that had just been born, yet was Tony who sat on her passenger seat, looking like the embodiment of bad choices and saying mean things because he knew they’d hurt. 

“Do you really think that?” she whispered, and sniffed, then turned to look at him. And even then, she looked at him as if he was the Sun and all the stars, because she couldn’t not love him, “That war was the only thing we did that mattered? Because I think it’s the worst thing I’ve done.” 

“Peg, I...” there was something lodged on his throat that held his words back and kept him from breathing, and his heart was racing, and he almost missed the fire in his stomach because he couldn’t handle so much pain. 

She flashed him a tiny sad smile, and it was as much an oxymoron as it sounds like. 

“I  _know_  it hurts, Tony.” Peggy laid a hand on his chest, so gentle, as if she could really feel what he felt and it hurt her even more than it hurt him. “I know you need him and it kills you to admit that because to you, he puts everything above you. But even then, you can’t shut yourself out.” There was a crack in her voice and she stopped to take a deep breath. Tony closed his eyes. “There are  _so many_   _people_  who care about you and cherish you, and they need you here. We need you here, all of you. And it kills me to say this, but if you keep turning your back on everyone because of your father, you’ll end up even a lonelier man than he did.” 

It wasn’t an advice, it was an ultimatum. After all, that was Peggy–gave the best hugs, but also threw the hardest punches. 

His heart pounded under her hand, like it was trying to escape his ribcage. Tony reached up, lacing their fingers together, and squeezed her hand to let her know he had listened. Peggy squeezed back quickly, then longly twice, and quickly again. Tony held back a laugh. She kept going–quick, long, two quicks. Quick. Quick, long. Three quicks in succession. Quick. Then nothing. P L E A S E. He let out a shaky breath. Hastily, he signed back S O R R Y and opened his eyes. Peggy was looking at him, face completely blank. 

“It’s okay,” she said, simply, “We’ll figure everything out.” And these words had the full weight of her saying ‘I love you’. 

She tugged at his sleeve with her free hand. 

“Come on now, bring it in.” 

Faking discontent, Tony let himself fall into her arms. Peggy nestled his head in her chest and ran her fingers through his hair.  _That’s_  what home felt like. She always smelled nice and felt warm, and  _wow_ , how he had missed it. 

“Thanks, Peg.” 

“You know, I used to be auntie Peggy, but it seems like I was demoted,” she whispered, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. 

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” 

“Come on, Tony,” she pleaded, and suddenly the way she held him felt a lot like a chokehold. 

Tony huffed. 

“Thanks, aunt Peggy,” he murmured. 

“There you go.” She smiled. “But I’m going to let go now because you smell like very cheap alcohol.” 

“Oh.” 

Peggy settled back into her seat with a sigh and it took Tony a few seconds to realize their hands were still clasped together over his heart. 

“Aunt Peggy?” he called, and the nickname made him feel five again, running around the house as his godmother chased him down the stairs, “Can I drive?” 

She furrowed her brows. “My car?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought you hated my car. Because it’s old and outdated, just like me.” 

“You’re not outdated.” 

“Didn’t hear anything about the old part.” She sighed. “I don’t think there’s any harm in letting you give it a go.” Peggy gave his hand one last good squeeze before opening her door and walking out. Tony simply crawled over the stick shift over to the driver’s side. “That’s one way to do it, I suppose.” 

She kicked her fallen shoes on her way in, making him realize she was barefoot, except for thin thighs. Tony straightened up and held the wheel, tapping his fingers restlessly before reaching for the keys. It took him a couple seconds to access why the car felt so weird, everything out of place, until he remembered Peggy had bought the car in London.  _Right_. She looked at him with a mocking grin, her eyebrows raised in false innocence. 

“Any problems?” 

“No. Not at all.” Tony tested changing the gears with his left hand. An absolute disaster. The car did a horrible noise, like it was choking, and his godmother flinched. 

“Please be careful with her.” 

“Her?” He frowned. 

“Yeah. Hum...Howard once told me all cars are female and I couldn’t quite get that out of my head. Also, boats.” 

It couldn’t really get more Howard Stark than that. Tony could hear it in his head, Howard saying this, which made his stomach burn again, but just a little. His father loved his machines just as much as he did, and that was something he could understand. He bit down his bottom lip softly, holding back the cry trying to flee his throat. 

“Come on,” Peggy encouraged, “Give it one more try.  _Gently_ this time, for Christ’s sake.” 

“Gently,” he repeated to himself, and pulled the stick shift again. This time, he felt the gear settling in the right way and exhaled. “Thank you,” he murmured, not sure to whom. To the car, maybe, or to its owner. Either way, none responded. 

The road was empty, just the two of them speeding on a bright blue car originally build in the forties and pulled apart and put back together countless times ever since then. The driver’s seat was covered in smooth, brown leather worn out from use, like one’s favorite armchair. Two pictures stared at Tony from the panel. A bigger one showcased a younger Peggy, military uniform, standing in front of a giant S.S.R. logo. Her hair is pulled back in pristine victory rolls and her lips are colored in her usual blood red as she bends down in laughter. There’s a certain familiarity to it, an ease to realizing she was caught in a surprise by the photographer. Tony almost dismissed the second one as being of someone he had never seen before until the boy’s features settled in his mind. It was weird, looking down at Steve Rogers’ insanely young pre-serum face. He easily looked like someone Tony could run into at campus and trade a few words with. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of longing ran through Peggy, how much of herself it felt like she lost when that airplane crashed into ice. She was the only one who could talk about Captain America and make him sound like an actual human being, and that could only mean she knew him maybe a bit too well for her own good. 

“Who taught you how to drive, Tony?” 

Tony teared his eyes away from the photo. 

“Jarvis,” he answered, matter-of-factly. 

Peggy simply nodded, and turned her face towards her window. She probably expected the answer to be Howard, but Jarvis had had Tony behind his wheel as soon as he could sit straight. 

“Dad did teach me how to shave, though,” he added, unclear which one of them he was trying to please. 

“He loves you, Tony,” she stated, then turned to look at him again. “He just doesn’t know how to show it.” 

“He doesn’t seem to have any problem showing it to other people.” In fact, he seemed quite happy to show it to everyone except to Tony, who had to move heavens and earth to get him to pay any attention. 

“Other people aren’t his son.” 

“Exactly,” Tony huffed, and that seemed to lay the subject to rest. 

The car had no stereo, just a forty-year-old radio that didn’t work anymore, so the only alternative to talking was silence. They chose silence. Tony felt like he would always choose silence over Howard Stark, whose words always seemed to cut so sharp. He wished he didn’t have to armor himself up to meet his father, but there wasn’t an alternative where both of them got out unharmed, and Tony didn’t plan on bleeding that day. 

So, when he parked the car on the entrance of the family mansion and saw Howard standing on the steps, arms laced with his mom, the fire restarted. Peggy laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiled. Her words from hours before came back to him like a punch and his hands started to shake. He looked down at them, burn marks and callouses from working with metal all day, and closed them in fists for a second before relaxing them again. 

“Hey,” Peggy called, “I’m proud of you.” 

She got out of the car first, and walked towards Howard and Maria while their son watched from the car. She said something that made Tony’s mom laugh. Howard smiled and wrapped his free arm around Peggy’s shoulders to whisper something in her ear. Tony’s breath got caught in his chest.  _Don’t shut yourself out, don’t shut yourself out, don’t shut_ _–_  

“Happy birthday, dad.” 

A soft exhale. Howard’s shoulders dropped, like he had just released an incredible amount of tension. 

“Thank you, Tony.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! if you did, leave a kudos, it makes a big difference! Also, feel free to bring anything (compliments, suggestions, critiques, spelling errors, really anything you'd like) to the comments and we can chat about it!
> 
> Lots of love!


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